The Golden Greenhouse
The notice was pinned to the corkboard in the hall, its corners yellowed by damp. It read: *Harvest Protocol, Term Three. Mandatory Contribution: One Limb. Deadline: Friday, 09:00. Sign below to confirm.* I stared at the paper, the ink smudged where a thumb had pressed too hard. My left hand twitched, a small, involuntary spasm that made my fingers curl into the palm. I was twelve years old,...
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